


400 Lux

by bellclips



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:54:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26133793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellclips/pseuds/bellclips
Summary: now we're wearing long sleeves and the heating comes on / (you buy me orange juice)
Relationships: Vriska Serket/Dave Strider
Comments: 5
Kudos: 9





	400 Lux

**Author's Note:**

> dedicated to shi and ais.  
> song is 400 lux by lorde.

The first thing that Vriska feels is the cold, shivering down her back and clinging to every part of her. It stings, travelling from her left and encompassing her whole body. She flexes that hand, feeling the rigid steel bend with the motion.

So it’s that dream. 

Vriska sits down then, cross legged, her eye closed. She knows this dream, this terror. It comes to her frequently, the cold clawing at her, begging her to pay attention, to notice it. Vriska sits, still in the darkness, waiting for the second act.

And it comes, the relentless clicking of heels on what she knows is wood.

Then smell, the fresh salt and some sort of perfume, like spiced plums. Vriska keeps her eye shut during this, hands pressed against the unidentifiable floor.

Finally, a hand places itself on her head, sharp, cold. Metal, just like hers. The fake nails dig into her scalp, hard enough that Vriska scrunches up her face slightly. Words whisper down, taunts, insults, anything that her brain would try to cook up so that she would break.

But Vriska just stays silent, quiet, waiting. Waiting for her eyes to open in the real world. Waiting for the wave of tiredness to wash over her as she realizes, for another night, she’s awake.

And, blissfully, she does wake up, her head finally breaks above the waves and the hot, Texan heat hits her, the familiar thrum of the city a distant noise.

An unfamiliar sight, however, greets her. Two eyes snap back and forth across the features of her face, an uncomfortably warm hand on her shoulder. Vriska almost reflexively jerks away from the feeling, but she steels herself, swallowing an insult in her throat.

“Hey, Dave.”

“Hey, Vris.”

The silence stretches out for a few seconds then, with both of them staring back at each other, asking questions with eyes that neither of them answer.

“Why are you awake?” Vriska finally speaks.

“You were moving around in your sleep, got an elbow to my back.” His voice is deeper, tings of sleep still there.

“Sorry.”

“S’okay. Why are you awake?” Vriska breaks eye contact at this, looking at the room. There’s a poster on the wall, for some shitty band. But there’s a name she knows oh so well.

Dave Strider.

“I, uh… had a bad dream. I’ll be okay.”

She can feel Dave’s eyes almost looking through her at this point. But he doesn’t pry, he doesn’t immediately start poking, prodding, fussing over her. He just looks up, staring at the star covered ceiling.

“Do you, like, do anything when you have a bad dream?”

“Usually, I wake up.” Vriska turns back to him with a small smile. He rolls his eyes, and huffs out a laugh.

“I mean, after that. ‘Cause I usually have a bath.”

Dave leaves her then, and Vriska finally looks for him, the sudden loss of warmth sending a small jolt through her. He swings his legs off the bed and starts locating one of his tank tops. Vriska also sits up, kicking the sheets off and pulling her legs to her chest.

“In this weather? In Texas?”

“You get used to it. C’mon. Let’s run a bath.” Dave is now standing at the door, half of his face visible in the moonlight.

Vriska…

Vriska wants to roll her eyes, maybe snap at him to leave her alone. She’s tired, and even though she’s going to emotionally and mentally torture herself for the next few hours analyzing that dream, she would rather do it alone.

But.

Vriska Serket is trying to get better, to be better.

So, she swings her legs out of bed and shakes her head, putting up her unruly hair in a bun. Dave is down the hall a little, or at least the light spilling out of the bathroom indicates that. Vriska walks towards it, following the ghost of his shadow on the wall. 

The sound of the bath is instantly calming to her, the familiar rushing sound of water settling her nerves. She crosses her arms, and leans against the door, watching him.  
He’s crouched in front of the tub, back to her. One of his hands paddles through the water, trying to circulate the different temperatures, whilst the other fumbles, reaches and then finally picks up a bottle, before pouring it in. Vriska blinks, watching the freckles on his skin bend and stretch with every movement, smiling softly.

That was the joke she made, when she bought those stupid plastic stars to stick on the ceiling of his bedroom. She pressed the package to his inner arm, a toothy grin plastered all over her face.

‘But you’ll match, Strider!’ 

He sighed, rolled his eyes and made a give me gesture towards the package. She remembers cheering, before spending the rest of the Sunday afternoon sticking stars all over the ceiling with him and waiting, watching for the first sign of that cheap, green glow in the dark.

And… he sat with her too. After helping her, even letting her on his shoulders so she could reach certain spots that she couldn’t from the bed. Dave raises something to his mouth, using his teeth to rip apart… plastic? His other hand finally leaves the water, and grabs the object, dropping it into the bath with a satisfying plorp!

“Sweet. It’s all yours, Serket.” Dave stands up, and steps away from the bath, shaking the water from his hand into the sink. Vriska waits until he walks out, before grabbing the hem of her shirt and pulling it off. She undresses quickly, fingers brushing over scars that she doesn’t want to recount, doesn’t want to think about.

Because she’s getting better. She’s trying.

She gingerly steps into the bath, letting out a small hiss at the sudden heat. But, she allows herself to sink in, stretching out her legs and letting the water flow over her. And the bubbles, which are new. Her hands pas through them, shooting some into the air. She follows them, watching as they swirl through the air before popping in quick succession. Her eyes close, and she lets out a sigh, her head tilted back and letting the steam soak into her. It’s like that, blissful and quiet, before a voice calls out to her.

“Hey, do you want a drink?” Vriska opens one eye, seeing Dave leaning into view through the doorframe. Vriska nods, and then fully opens her eyes, looking down at the water now. His footsteps fade down the hallway again, and she lets her hair down, before dunking her head into the water. 

She comes up for air after a few seconds, enjoying the full body warmth for probably a little longer than she should’ve. If she was a cat, she’d practically be purring right now, with how soothed she feels. But now, she turns her attention to the differences in the bath.  
Vriska paws through the water once, twice, enjoying the sensation of her fingers running through the red- or maybe it was pink? liquid. The bubbles swirl around her, and she bats at the edge of them, destroying some.

Her hair hangs low, heavy with the bathwater, even as she’s slouched over, playing the bath as if she’s still a grub. She wonders if Dave ever did this, when he was tiny.

Dave places a drink next to her, the condensation on the cool metal already dripping in the heat of the bathroom. He then leans against the doorframe, sliding down so that he’s sitting.

“Did you ever do this? As a grub?” She doesn’t look up from the water, and the bubbles, content to manipulate the warm water.

“Play in the water? Oh, totally. You could’ve called me Captain Dave at that point.”

Vriska laughs, pushing her bangs out of her face and picking up her drink. She raises it to her lips, and finally looks at thim.

And, oh.

He’s looking at her, red eyes full of something that she doesn’t want to name, a word that’s purposefully escaping her. He has a lazy smile on his face, knuckles pressed into his cheek as he simply looks at her, his posture totally relaxed against the doorframe of the bathroom.

He’s looking at her with that damned word, that four letter word that neither of them have dared to utter in front of each other. Vriska feels something bubble up inside her, a surge of emotion that turns her chest tight, as if suddenly, everything is going to burst out of her. She has such an urge to reach out, to caress the softness of his cheek, of him, that she feels her hand twitch on her head.

She’s grateful for the heat flushing her skin, grateful for the excuse. She badly, oh so very badly wants to crack a joke, make fun of him for his doe-eyed expression, but she says nothing, and blurts out a question.

“Why is the, uh, water pink?”

“Oh, it’s, like, a bath bomb? Jade sent it to me, it’s homemade.” Dave sips his drink.

“Harley is sending you explosives now?” Vriska makes an exaggerated face.

“Definitely. I’ve been telling her how I need a little more pizazz in my life.” Dave makes jazz hands, and Vriska laughs.

“But, Serket, I know you know what a bath bomb is. Claiming out of world experiences only goes so far. Remember when you tried to pass off not knowing what a toaster was?” Dave gets a wicked grin on his face, and Vriska sputters slightly.

“I just don’t understand the purpose of toasting a single item. Why only bread? Doesn’t make sense!” Vriska raises one hand out of the water and sets her can down with a little force. Dave chuckles, and shrugs. He stands then, and scratches the back of his neck.

“Well, if you’re doing better, I’ll leave you alone for a little. I’ll just be in the living room, so… if you need me.” Dave takes a step back, easy smile still on his face. He’s still got that expression, that look of…

Whatever the word was. Vriska wants to ask him to stay, but a part of her knows that if he stays, she’s going to start asking difficult questions, questions that she’s not sure if she wants the answers to. Or, at least hear the answers to. So she waves him off, and reaches into the tub, grabbing for the fizzy object that’s been brushing against her leg.

It’s a small, cracking ball. The bath bomb, mentally correcting herself. Vriska lifts it out of the water, the sudden, sweet smell of cherries hitting her. Cherries, fruit, so much of it was foreign to her.

She remembers doing laundry one time, moving the wet clothes into the dryer and just sitting in the room. Not just because it was the coldest room in the apartment, but also because it smelt so good. Cherries, as Dave had told her after he found her there, dozing, was what she smelled.

His dryer sheets smelled like cherries. He bought them while shopping too, at the supermarket. Vriska remembers running down the empty aisle with the cart, Dave laughing behind her. He grabbed the actual groceries she raced past, and put them in the cart. Cherries, blueberries, other fruits she hadn’t ever heard of.

But she ended up loving them.

Loving him.

Her hands separate and drop the remainder of the bath bomb back in the water, her eyes staring at the tap now.

Love. That was the word. That’s what he was looking at her with. What she was looking at him with. That’s the feeling that rises in her chest whenever she smells cherries on his bedsheets, or stares at his bedroom ceiling, or hears the jingle of his keys in the lock for his apartment.

Their bedsheets, their ceiling, their apartment. Her brain corrects her and Vriska sucks in a breath.  
Their love.

Vriska has wrestled with this feeling for so long, seeking to name it and explain it. 

Red or pale? She thought it was pale, for a little, when he broke down in front of her for the first time, after he got off a phone call with his brother. He had just sort of, leaned against the balcony railing and silently cried, tears slipping down from under his shades and rolling down across freckles. 

Vriska stood next to him then, before, awkwardly, patting his back. Dave then broke into a laugh, pushing up his shades and rubbing his eyes with one hand, still crying, but laughing too.

‘You’re terrible at this, y’know?’

Vriska felt her cheeks heat up again at the embarrassment of the situation, remembering how she had sworn at him and half-heartedly started one of their little arguments, nothing serious, but a good distraction.

She still thought it was pale, when she broke down in front of him. She had another dream, another painful memory that wouldn’t leave, voices that whispered in her ears even as she stood at his kitchen counter, hands clenched, teeth bared and voice squeaking out protests. Her body had sunk down until she was sitting on the kitchen floor, knees to her chest and body curled up as tight as she could, trying to be small.

Vriska remembers swearing when she felt something touch her arm, felt a presence crouched in front of her. Her eyes snapped open, and her arm almost reflexively swung at whatever dared to bother her in her moment of shame, of weakness.

But it was Dave, expression unreadable except for the raised eyebrows and mouth set in a firm line. Vriska remembers glaring at him through tear-soaked eyes, before looking away, and just saying nothing. Dave opened his mouth once, then closed it, and then opened it again before finally speaking.

‘If you want to talk, I’ll listen.’ 

And that’s what she did, first in clipped, blunt sentences, some insulting and sarcastic, before it all flowed out of her like a waterfall, everything about her, every weakness, every concern, every ghost that haunted the shadows of the apartment. Dave said nothing, after she finally came to a halt, and Vriska felt panic rising in her chest, the urge to flee rising and rising in her chest until finally-

‘I think… we’re fighting a lot of the same demons.’

Vriska scoffed at him, but said nothing after. Neither of them did, until finally, Vriska spoke, in a sing-song voice.

‘You’re really terrible at this, y’know?’

Daves cheeks turned pink then, and he scratched the back of his neck. Vriska laughed, weakly, and stood up, eager to move away from this. But she felt… better. She didn’t immediately burn the bridge with Dave after, and he did the same. It was normal.

Vriska, finally, maybe, considered it to be red, when Dave danced with her in his- their kitchen. He was listening to the radio, tapping his finger against the counter as he waited for their food. Vriska rolled over on the couch, lounging over the side and looking at him. She quirked an eyebrow at him and he made a come over here gesture.

She obliged, and he grabbed her hand, pulling her close and gently beginning to sway with her. Vriska remembers sputtering out and insult to him, but he just smiled and continued to mouth the words to the song on the radio, eventually singing them quietly under his breath after she didn’t say anything

We're never done with killing time  
Can I kill it with you  
'Til the veins run red and blue?  
We come around here all the time  
Got a lot to not do  
Let me kill it with you.

Vriska claps her hands to her cheeks now, shaking her head and trying to ignore the heat in her chest. The heat that was clearly not from the bath.

And, tonight, she realizes is the second time she’s thought it was red.  
‘  
Red, pale. Love, friendship.

It didn’t really matter. 

Vriska yanks the plug out of the tub, gingerly stepping out and toweling off. She wraps it around herself before grabbing her clothes and tiptoeing to their bedroom. Another pair of shorts, one godawful band shirt and she’s done. She tiptoes back to the living room, waiting until she’s right behind him before saying anything.

“Hey, Dave?” His shoulders twitch, barely, but it’s enough for Vriska to know that she got him. She smiles, another toothy, goofy grin. He turns to look at her, blinking once or twice.

“Yeah, Vris?” He’s smiling, again- at her, she realizes.

Vriska leans down, smoothing his hair from his forehead and placing a light kiss on it, before bumping their noses together. Dave’s face feels hot, and looks almost cherry-red.

“Thanks, for everything.”


End file.
